


want for nothing

by casualbird



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Blow Jobs, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, M/M, Marking, Mild Praise Kink, Tender Sex, don't look at me, just take the pornography and go, newlyweds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-10-09 05:29:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20513246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casualbird/pseuds/casualbird
Summary: If it was possible for Ferdinand to flush any deeper, he did. "You did vow to me, my darling, that I’d never want for anything."Hubert and Ferdinand take care of each other.





	want for nothing

Hubert tied a cream-colored ribbon firmly around the ends of Ferdinand's braid, laying a kiss at the nape of his neck to announce that he was done.

Ferdinand pulled his hair over his shoulder, examining with a critical eye. (Hubert, long ago, had called him a fop, an incorrigible dandy.) But this was only for show. The braid was like something from a painting—sleek, neat, shining where it caught the low firelight.

“Is it up to standard, love?” asked Hubert, lips brushing his husband's skin.

"It's perfect," Ferdinand assured him, delighted. He was so easily pleased, delighted by little gifts, quick kisses, small favors. Hubert had been braiding his hair before bed since they’d begun sharing one, but several months later, Ferdinand was still elated.

And why wouldn't he be? Though Hubert’s knobby fingers didn't look the part, they were remarkably skilled. Deft. Gentle. Hubert, he’d been surprised to learn, had been doing Edelgard’s hair for years. Though he could see a past Hubert thinking it frivolous, he’d clearly taken to Edelgard’s request, applied himself to the task with the same diligence he would anything she asked of him.

Ferdinand had struggled to believe it, but it had been made abundantly clear to him that that devotion wasn't just for the empress. It was his now, too: he was given an equal measure of its boundlessness. Edelgard received her portion gracious, stoic in the throne room, while Ferdinand took his at the altar, _weeping_ for the joy of it.

When he drifted back from the image of Hubert's shining wedding-day eyes, Ferdinand caught himself twisting his ring. He couldn't keep his fingers off of it, it seemed. It was still a new weight—even after a month, he caught himself staring at it, noticing it at the oddest times.

Well. he'd be dreadfully remiss to preoccupy himself with the symbol of his love when the object was right there, hands warm against his shoulders, working out his tension. Ferdinand shifted, and smiled, and kissed Hubert on the mouth.

"Thank you, Hubie."

"Anything," he murmured, pressed up to kiss the corner of his husband's mouth. "I should say, Ferdinand, that I appreciate this time we have together. Being busy is no hardship, and it is an honor to assist in the reconstruction, but it is so... _taxing_ when our work keeps us apart."

Ferdinand nodded, eyes narrowing as if he were about to say something quite naughty. "We could always ask for more time off. Edelgard would not refuse us, you heard her wedding speech."

Edelgard, heart full of pride and belly full of champagne, had all but sobbed her elation.

Hubert laughed only just above his breath. "You tempt me. I will… see what I can do about rearranging our schedules, as a first step."

Ferdinand beamed at that, leaning in with parted lips to kiss him proper. He laid his chest flush against Hubert's, wrapping arms around his neck. For a moment it was gentle, searching, but then Hubert tugged his lower lip between his teeth, just the way he liked it, and Ferdinand whined, slipping further against his husband's body. Hubert supported him then, hands cradling his hips.

Ferdinand drew one hand from behind Hubert's back, dragged fingertips through his hair, adjusted the angle of his head to kiss him deep. Hubert's fingers twitched at that, but it was only after Ferdinand frankly keened into his mouth that they slipped to the ruffled hem of Ferdinand's nightshirt, darting under to hold the small of his bare back.

He pulled back, then, humming with contentment. "Hubie…"

Hubert half-laughed, chapped lips turned up at the corners "Yes?"

"I love you."

Hubert stroked his cheek, then, Ferdinand leaning into his touch. "And I you."

This seemed to satisfy Ferdinand, who leaned in to kiss him once more, firmly but with absolutely no rush. Hubert shifted, holding one leg to the side so Ferdinand could lie against him. His husband was so warm, and so _soft_ despite his fearsome strength. To Hubert's mind, there was no greater pleasure in the world than lying with him.

The thought of saying something like that sent a nervous jolt through all his bones. But he’d said far more, far softer. Pored over his words for days, then spoke them unwavering, heard them echo from every wall of the cathedral.

The decision was made for him when Ferdinand moved, pressing their hips flush for just a moment. And then again, deeper, and again after that. Hubert's head fell back, mouth moved without the rest of him. "Oh," he said, though it was more moan than word, "the way you feel…"

"Is it good?"

"Immeasurably."

Ferdinand cocked his head. _‘Immeasurably?’_ Certainly, that must have been a challenge. Sweet like honeyed wine, but a challenge nonetheless. How could he lay there, practically aching for his husband, and let the man be coherent enough for words like _that?_

Not if his name was Ferdinand Vestra von Aegir!

He smoothed his nonplussed face, lowering his eyelids, smiling gently, baring, by a few degrees, his neck.

"Will you let me give you more? I would love to."

Hubert raised an eyebrow, which Ferdinand adored-- it was generally the closest he got to genuine playfulness. "What did you have in mind?"

"My mouth?" It was a new skill, that, and one he was quite keen to hone. His first time, he'd gone rushing for it like an enthusiastic, considerate lover… and nearly did himself quite a mischief. He'd had to work at it, to train for it, but oh, he _knew_ he was getting there.

"Ferdie… Eager, are we? Yes, I’d like that."

Victory! There it was, and he hadn’t even taken Hubert's clothes off. Ferdinand planted a soft kiss on the ridge of Hubert's cheekbone, fingers busying themselves with the tie of his dressing gown. Hubert, for his part, smiled and stroked the back of his husband's head, appreciative beyond words that he could find.

It was awkward, for a moment, as they shuffled Hubert's pants off, Ferdinand making a show of folding them before laying them aside.

"Tease."

Ferdinand just laughed, settled between Hubert's legs. He ducked his head, keeping eye contact for as long as he could before throwing himself into it, raining soft kisses on the insides of Hubert's thighs. He traced his fingers down his husband's David lines, pushing his legs wider for better access. Hang him for taking his time, when Hubert's skin was so soft, so pale. Unblemished, without scars. (It was not as if he did not love his husband’s scars, however.)

"You’re lovely," he cooed, flicking his eyes up to catch Hubert blushing. It had become a favorite pastime of Ferdinand's, showering his beloved with praise. It was not, he'd gathered, something Hubert was used to. And what a pity, he thought, that a body like his, a person like him, had gone so long without the attention, the _love_ that he deserved.

It was lucky, then, that Ferdinand knew exactly how to remedy that. When he was satisfied with the mark he'd left (at the widest part of the thigh, so he'd feel his clothes against it next morning), he lifted his head, smiled sweetly, laid a reverent kiss on the crown of Hubert's cock.

He was flushed red, dripping—it would have been unconscionable to leave him wanting any longer.

Ferdinand steadied him with fingers loose around the base, parted his lips, took him in. Slowly, gently, not too much pressure. It was prudent, he had learned, to let them both acclimate.

When next he looked upward, Hubert had gone positively _rosy,_ one hand laid cautious over his slack mouth.

"None of that," Ferdinand said, and when he took him back in Hubert _keened._

His moves were methodical at first, making certain that he still had the hang of it. He paid careful attention to his teeth, kept them out of the way. There was a certain diplomacy to it, keeping his lips and his tongue and his jaw all where they were supposed to be.

He was concentrating, though Hubert was not making it easy. His hands wandered over his hair, his neck, his face, cradling his cheek, wiping away any mess at the corners of his mouth. And the noises me made, so sweet, so open. Ferdinand relished them, took them in with the same care he might a poem, an aria. When they coalesced into words, even more so. Darling, Hubert called him, beautiful, so good, _mine mine mine._

Ferdinand took him deeper at that, pressing him against his palate, hoping to convey something along the line of _yours yours yours._

Like a true nobleman, Hubert stayed the spasming of his hips, but Ferdinand felt the strain in shaking thighs under his free hand. It had always been a fantasy, to give Hubert his way in this, to surrender, to be, for one moment, an instrument of his husband's unrestrained indulgence.

Practically speaking, it was a matter for another time. Still, the thought spurred him on, and Ferdinand took him deeper yet, looked into Hubert's face as he swallowed around him.

Hubert cried out, panting. Sweat shone on his face, and his flush had deepened, blotched across his shoulders, his collarbones. He was gorgeous in his abandon, and Ferdinand ached despite all attempts at restraint.

And Ferdinand wished that there was something he could do, some way that he could speak to him without denying him his pleasure, because the words came unbidden to him with nowhere to go. Beloved, exquisite, radiant, and _good,_ so impossibly good.

So he redoubled his efforts instead, pressing his tongue flat against the head, fingers twisting around the part he couldn’t take. He moaned, muffled, and Hubert came, shuddering and spasming into Ferdinand's soft mouth. Before his eyes screwed shut, he vaguely registered Ferdinand was watching him, cheeks hollowed, eyes dazed glassy and flowing over with love.

Still shaking, he retrieved a handkerchief from the nightstand and passed it down. Ferdinand smiled lazily as he pulled off, dabbed his lips and then, as delicately as was possible, spat into the cloth. He folded it with some semblance of neatness, setting it aside with a grimace.

"Oh, you know I just adore giving myself to you that way, but _Goddess,_ I wish it tasted better."

"If it did, would we ever get anything done?" He pressed his palm to Ferdinand's jaw, wiping away a stray smear with his thumb. “Sincerely, though, I am... grateful, that you endure such unpleasantness for my sake” He reached back with his free hand, bringing his half-drained wineglass to Ferdinand's lips, tilting it so he could drink.

Ferdinand's languid gaze sharpened as Hubert drew the glass away, making a face. "That's the bloodiest red I’ve ever tasted, Hubie."

"I’ll make you some tea later, if you'd prefer. But for the moment… are you going to sit there complaining, or do you need me? Because," he said, trailing his fingers down the cream silk of Ferdinand's nightshirt, letting his fingertips come to rest at his thigh, "it looks as if you do."

Ferdinand laughed even as he shuddered. "I can't help myself."

"From complaining, or desiring me?"

"Either. Both."

"Then tell me what it is you need, and I’ll tend to it."

He thought for a moment, eyes fluttering shut.

"I wish I could have you inside me, but I just— I cannot wait. Hold me in your lap, dearest, and touch me, and mark my neck, _please,_ the last ones you gave me are fading."

Hubert laughed, a rumble in his chest. "I could give you jewels, teas, fine weapons, I could shroud you in cloth-of-gold and you’d still prefer the marks I leave on you."

If it was possible for Ferdinand to flush any deeper, he did. "You did vow to me, my darling, that I’d never want for anything."

He had. He still remembered that line verbatim, figured that he always would. _‘As long as I am living, no matter the cost, you will want for nothing.’_ Gently, he pulled his husband into his lap, situated himself with one hand supporting Ferdinand's back. Ferdinand lay obligingly against him, head settling into the crook of his shoulder.

"You are too good to me, my dear," Ferdinand murmured as Hubert unfastened the last two buttons of his nightshirt. There was a small wet patch at the front of his silk smallclothes, and Hubert hummed commiseration as he pulled them away.

He wasted no time whatever—Ferdinand, flushed and leaking, had waited long enough. Ferdinand's entire body stiffened as Hubert got his hand on him, stroking him slow, just the way he liked it.

"Is this what you needed?"

Ferdinand whimpered, burying his face in Hubert's hair. "yes…!"

"Good," Hubert whispered, and pressed his open mouth to Ferdinand's neck. He knew by then not to be gentle. It had taken quite some bossing around on Ferdinand's part to truly get the message across that, no matter how he looked, he was not cast in porcelain, and that his sweet pitchy cries at the scrape of Hubert's teeth had nothing to do with pain. So Hubert nipped him, kissed him, sucked a bruise into the skin just above the line of his usual style of collar.

When he'd finished with the first mark, Ferdinand was shaking. By the middle of the second, his fingers were curled in Hubert’s lapels, hips jerking.

"I’ll— please, Hubie, make me—"

Hubert laughed against his skin, pulled him closer. "Of course, love. Anything."

One last twist of Hubert's fingers had Ferdinand sobbing, trembling, coming in his husband's hand. Hubert stroked him firmly through it, raining soft kisses on his neck, pausing every few seconds to tell him how precious he was, how well he had done.

When it was over, Hubert laid him gently on the bed, kissed his lips once more.

"How was that?"

"It was wonderful," Ferdinand said, words tumbling out in a breathless rush. Hubert just smiled, reached for a handkerchief, paying attention to every detail as they cleaned them up. Dispensing with the cloth, he tucked up the flyaways in Ferdinand's braid.

"Would you still like a cup of tea, Ferdie?"

Ferdinand—Hubert would not insult his dignity by saying that he giggled. But it was… something in the vicinity of that, yes.

"In truth, I’d forgotten all about it," Ferdinand admitted, eyes bright through his exhaustion. "I would much rather sleep… and I’d love it if you held me."

"Well, I did say that you would want for nothing."

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope you enjoyed! I certainly had a blast writing this, though it did give me a near-death experience last night. I was printing it so I could edit, and the goddamn thing got STUCK IN MY PRINTER. I thought I was going to have to take it to IT, where someone would pull out the jam and look at it and instantly know exactly what kind of pervert I am.
> 
> Hello to friends from Discord who cheered me on as I was writing this!
> 
> As always, all feedback is very much appreciated!!!


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